Friday, August 19, 2011

Today we went to the beach. Unfortunately, a bunch of fat, smelly, guys had taken all the good spots:

Eventually we found a spot.

I am not a beach person. I understand that many of you are. My view is more like the Dead Milkmen's "Beach Song".

When I was kid, I loved the beach, but as an adult the sheer logistics of hauling stuff there, setting up umbrellas, keeping sand out of Diet Coke and food, and locating bathrooms without junkies sleeping on the floor, is just a pain in the ass.

We all, I think, have this idyllic view of the beach we WANT to be on, popularized through beer, cruise line, and resort ads: a perfectly smooth white sand beach, devoid of all but a handful of young, attractive people, bright sun, icy buckets of beer, no noise except for the waves and wind.

But the reality is this: A crowded beach filled with large families, each with a loud boombox, all of them setting up giant portable sun patios from Costco, dragging coolers full of who-knows-what back and forth from the parking lot, inebrated college students, screaming toddlers who haven't had their diapers changed in a week, guys with metal detectors walking back & forth, and sand that's chock-full of seaweed, fast-food wrappers, dog shit, chicken bones, cigarette butts, and lost hair clips.

Oh, and a guy wearing a T-shirt that said "Make your tits stop staring at my eyes!"

But the kids liked it. So, as my parents did for me, I did for them.

I want to mention a LegoLand ride I forgot: The Knight's Tournament. Sound's benign, huh? It's actually oddly out-of-place in the glorified kiddyland of Legos.

This is a new generation of emesis-inducing rides. The German robot company KUKA makes giant robot arms to assemble cars, planes, tractors, whatever. And somewhere along the line they realized that people would pay money to have a giant mechanical limb toss them around like a sack of potatoes. They call them "robocoasters", and the arms put you through the same series of twists, turns, loops, and more that a real coaster would. It even comes with 5 levels, so you can pick the intensity of your ride. I recommend 1 if you want to be a bit dizzy, 5 if you want to toss your cookies. Of course, MY kids dragged me on it at level 5, three times in a row (I recommend Youtube if you want to see this thing in action).

Tonight was our last night in San Diego, , so we hung out at the hotel with various relatives, while the kids and their cousins played in the pool with a bunch of other kids. The evening came to an abrupt end when the kids all began screaming and climbing out of the pool. I went over to see if a shark had somehow been airlifted to it. To my horror (hell, EVERYONE'S horror), the scene was reminiscent of Caddyshack: a huge turd was at the bottom of the pool. And I'm pretty sure it wasn't a Baby Ruth.

Dr. G, as you are the expert Mongolian yak herder (Neurologist), I'm both amazed and slightly more respectful of your willingness to submit your noggin to such cruelty...three times! I'm more surprised that you didn't crap yourself--well, you could have given that photo you posted.

Well you have to come to Australia, the beaches here are pristine, no crowds or junkies, unless its Bondi, but here in Queensland its quiet, white sand, and clean! My other half and son are in LA right now, sounds hectic, kinda like Sydney on steroids!

not that I have chit chatting with the pool life guards and reading the sanitary code, but you have to evacuate the pool, vac that thing up, shock it with chlorine, test for coliform....maybe shock it again...could be no pool time for 48 hrs...

Forget white sand. The very best sand, powder-soft and non-gritty, and easy to brush off, is the black iron sand which is found down much of the east coast of New Zealand's North Island. Only downside is that at the top of the beach where only the highest tides reach, it gets darned hot to walk on.

Damn, I meant WEST coast of the North Island is where the black iron sand is. Anyway, it is the BEST, softest, sand in the world...as long as you build yourself a little bridge of driftwood to cross that hot, dry sand at the top of the beach.

Welcome to my whining!

This blog is entirely for entertainment purposes. All posts about patients may be fictional, or be my experience, or were submitted by a reader, or any combination of the above. Factual statements may or may not be accurate.

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